


Itinerant

by Smitten_miqitten



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Chapters will be arranged chronologically and not by post date, D1 veteran Guardian, Deep Stone Crypt, Episodic Slowburn, F/M, Female Exo Guardian(Destiny), Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Hunter Guardian (Destiny), Idiots to lovers lol, Might end up a fix it fic, Not sure how the story will shake out so will add tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26834380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smitten_miqitten/pseuds/Smitten_miqitten
Summary: A little episodic fic showcasing my Guardian's journey from her awakening in old Russia (D1 onwards). There'll be several intro chapters, but once I start skipping around I'll preface chapters with a rough timeline.Chapter 4 is the most recent.I decided the previous title, The Journeys of Peregrine-3, was kinda lame, so I changed it.I'm a slow writer, sorry.
Relationships: Cayde-6/Female Guardian (Destiny)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Table of Contents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some character notes:
> 
> Peregrine has a programming bug that makes the outer ring of her eye lights change color with emotion. White=normal, yellow=happy, red=mad, dim=sad. It's entirely involuntary.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: ToC

Chapter 2: Old Russian Wakeup (intro part 1)

Chapter 3: The Guardian (intro part 2)

Chapter 4:Between Light and Dark (intro part 3)

Chapter 5: Deep Stone Crypt (standalone chapter. Will be pushed further back as the intro chapters come out. Sorry for the trouble)


	2. Old Russian Wakeup (Intro pt 1)

[There you are!]

_[I've been looking for you for so long I ...]_

_[But do you even **want** to wake up? I know I shouldn't....]_

The tiny voice sounded anxious and overeager. His silent conversational companion thought she'd quite like to hug him, had she any arms. In this space, in this...she couldn't say where. Couldn't say when. She'd been here so long she'd all but forgotten. Were it not for her now distant regrets, ones she could no longer even remember, she'd have surely vanished into the hazy, peaceable nothing around her. Not that she could abide that. _She had to find them_... whoever they were.

_[If you come with me, your life --second life-- will be difficult. Times are tough out in the world, now more than ever. But you could help change that, **you most of all** , I'm certain of it...if you wanted to.]_

Despite not knowing what difficulties the little voice referred to, she found that she _did_ want to help. Help _him_ , if nothing else, for he seemed such a dear, fragile thing.

_[You.... you can feel it too, can't you? We're bound -- I'm yours in all the ways that matter. Made for you, if you'll have me.]_

Feel it? _Yes_... perhaps she did. Perhaps that was why this conversation had stirred her back to awareness, after such an immesurably long time. It was as if she were speaking to _herself_. Well... _not-speaking_ , more like. Truth be told, not speaking was inconvenient (how could she agree without saying?), but without so much as a mouth there was no help for it. Her new little friend seemed to understand her dilemma, however, a pulse of reassurance coursing through their connection. He understood her, words or no.

 _[You **will** , won't you?] _The utter relief and joy he felt at this must have embarrassed him -- she felt it only for a short moment before he collected himself again. _[I-I won't lie. You won't remember your life before, if you even do now. You may not even remember **this**. Most can't, and I'm very sorry to say I don't know why. That...thing...you want, that anxious impatience I feel in you...I can't promise you'll be able to find it or do it or fix it or...but I'll be with you every step of the way. I will **never** leave your side. I swear it.]_

His companion, his beloved partner - future, past, present - assented. She'd already forgotten everything, everyone, that had ever mattered to her. All that remained was echos of shadows and feeling, all that could stand unweathered by time. Even in accepting her companion's caveat, she couldn't fail her forgotten more than she already had. _Her beloved_... oh how she wanted to remember. To put things right. To protect...yes, that was it wasn't it? They needed her, and here she is wasting time being dead. Dammned irresponsible. What would they think, to see her like this?

More than past time to pull herself together.

_Could you give me a hand with that?_

_[Gladly]_

* * *

[Guardian… Guardian? Eyes up, Guardian!]

Peregrine-3 gasped, sensation not felt in hundreds of years flooding her newly resurrected body, light blinding her and the chill creeping into her bones....

Bones? Something about that didn't feel quite right, but she couldn't put her finger on why. The frigid environment shocked her systems to waking in the space of a few heart(?)beats, the clothing she wore affording only a modicum of protection as close fit as it was. She looked at her hands and legs to find herself lightly armored in some sort of combat bodysuit, every inch below her neck covered. The sharp, hard metal frame of the ageworn vehicle where she lay was digging into her back something fierce, prompting her to rise hastily, in turn smacking her forehead on the low frame. The resounding _'clack!!'_ confused her, but she had no time to dwell _._

The little voice she'd woken up to -- so endearing and oddly familiar -- was jabbering in her ear (ear?) about Guardians and Fallen and needing to move quickly. She panicked for a moment when he vanished from sight, finding herself terribly afraid of being alone, but calmed when assured he'd never left her.

Peregrine followed the little bot's advice, both because she found she inexplicably trusted him wholeheartedly, and because she had _zero_ idea what was going on. He lit the way, literally and figuratively, and she had but to follow his lead. His words often left more and more questions in their wake, however, and no time to get answers.

 _I was dead?_ She couldn't remember anything, anything besides her name, at least, and certainly couldn't recall having _died_. How had it happened, and why had it un-happened? People _don't_ just come back from the dead, she was sensible enough to know that much.

 _My name is Peregrine-3_. _I am alive, and I'm on the run._

That's it. The sum total of her self identification. No idea what she liked, disliked, how she looked, where she'd been, or who she was.

Apart from Peregrine. Apart from living. Apart from running.

She _did_ know, however, that she felt wired. Running hid the symptoms, but every idle second had her feet and fingers tapping, static in her veins(?) discouraging stillness. Her Ghost, as he'd called himself, claimed it to be arc energy, a form of _Light_ she was likely predisposed to. He was probably right -- he seemed right about most things -- but she didn't think that was all it was. She had to get out of here, and not _just_ because of these Fallen.

_Someone's waiting for me... needs me... Right? I've gotta go...gotta go... somewhere. **Right**?? _

The more she tried to think on it the more it slipped away, leaving only the antsy anxious itching feeling that had her bolting through the corridors of the wall and her trigger finger twitching. She moved with trained purpose, her shots finding their marks with ease despite the poor weathered weapon she'd scrounged up. Whoever she'd been before certainly knew how to handle herself. A soldier perhaps?

_No way to know, no time to think. Run._

A Dreg fell.

Next a Shank.

At Ghost's prompting she decimated a pack of Vandals with electrified knives summoned from nowhere with lightning speed. An old throwing knife she found strapped to her leg found a snug resting place in a Captain's skull, and she was home free. For a moment, at least. More of these creatures began to crawl out of the woodwork as Ghost pulled her into the ramshackle jumpship. They peeled out into the airspace above as fast as the rust bucket would go, Ghost only relaxing once they were well into the clouds.

* * *

"Ghost, can you tell me...wait, you said you're _**a** _Ghost. So that's not actually your name?" Peregrine was messing around with the various knobs, dials, and gauges on the control panel, occasionally having her hand gently nudged away from more vital system controls by Ghost.

[Oh! Uh, no, actually. I don't have one.] His little electric blue eye trained on her, expectant.

"Ghosts don't get names?"

[Not unless their Guardian names them, or they pick one out. _You_ might have one though. Exos sometimes remember their old names.]

"Exo?"

_The hell's an Exo?_

[A human mind in a robotic body -- though I guess that needs to be explained too. Hmmmm...it might be better for you to ask Cayde about that...] Sensing her confusion, he continued, [Cayde's the Hunter Vanguard, and an Exo like you. Based on how you fight, you'll probably report to him.]

Ghost shot a little beam of light at the jumpship's cracked screens as Peregrine leaned in closer to see on the low resolution monitor.

[This], he gestured toward the image of a white and orange chassied robot woman, [is you] 

'Her' face and bright lit eyes were white, an orange beak like attachment resting in place of a brow, the space above it on her right styled by a light blue swoosh.

 _Looks like a mask,_ she thought, tracing her fingers across the carved indents that mimicked lips, the dark grey mold of her lower jaw framed in white accents, the teardrop shaped cutouts below her eyes... 

Now things like ears and heart not sitting right made sense. She probably didn't have _any_ of those things, stuffed full of wires and gizmos instead. The thought didn't bother her as much as it should have.

_Ghost said my mind is human, at least; I'm was still a person... probably...hm.._

"We match" she noted, comparing her colors to his shell and eye, slightly startled by the lights that flashed in time with her voice. "Are we supposed to match?"

[Happy coincidence?] He _did_ sound happy about it, curiously and adorably proud. His chassis did a little twirl she thought was cute.

"You said 'report to'...is this guy supposed to be my boss? I didn't sign up for getting bossed around." She crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat, and fixed Ghost with a hard stare, brow beak thingy canted to one side in a mimicry of a raised eyebrow. She didn't mind listening to Ghost, she liked him just fine, but...

 _I didn't sign up for **anything** , best I can figure_.

[Ha...hahaha! You really _are_ a Hunter. No --you don't _technically_ have to do what he says, Guardians aren't an army -- but if you want to live in the City and fight the Darkness...well, it's probably a good idea. He's a bit... unique, but he's got ages of experience that make him worth listening to. _Most_ of the time...] He trailed off, still laughing lightly. 

This answer suited Peregrine well enough as she nodded along with his explanation. To be honest, she was happy just so long as she wasn't being roped into anything before she had a chance to understand it. And she _did_ want to fight. Not like she wasn't good at it. She didn't know shit about any _City_ or _Darkness_ , but if her little Ghost pal was against the Darkness then she was too. 

"Peregrine-3."

[Hm?]

"My name. It's Peregrine-3, I'm pretty sure." A curious look crossed her face, eyes narrowed at Ghost, thinking. "Ghost...do you _want_ a name?"

[If you want to give me one.] He tried to sound nonchalant, but his excitement was plain.

 _Just how important **are** Guardians to these guys_?

Peregrine mulled it over, drumming her fingers on her handrest as she thought, finally coming to a decision with two quick raps of he knuckles before offering, "How about Nolan?"

[Nolan? Not bad...but why 'Nolan'?]

_Well, you sound a bit prissy and...nah that's pretty rude. Umm..._

"It just feels right. Suits you."

 _Nice! Good save Peregrine._ She smiled (as best she was able), stupidly proud of her tact.

Nolan wiggled with joy, taking note of the yellow color his Guardian's eye lights changed to when pleased. 

_[I have a name!!! I finally have my Guardian and now a name and this is honestly the best day ever...!]_

He struggled to contain himself, to be _somewhat_ dignified in front of his long awaited other half. [It's very nice to be properly introduced, Ms. Peregrine-3. I'm Nolan] Nolan tilted forward as if in a little bow, his calm tone barely masking his delight.

The rest of the long flight consisted of the newly christened Nolan answering a veritable onslaught of questions. Peregrine was overcome with curiosity, everything but the most fundemental aspects of living were entirely foreign to her.

_Heck, even that's up in the air. How do Exos even function? Do I really breathe? Eat? Shit??_

She decided not to dwell on the mystery of her own anatomical functions for the time being, returning her attention back to her ever informational Nolan. 

He told her of the Traveller, and the City, and the foes that surrounded both. Humanity was on its last legs, beset on all sides, and needed the strength of Guardians like herself now more than ever. Peregrine listened in ernest, drinking in everything he had to share, but more than just out of a desire for knowledge. The anxious itch she woke with had crept back into her circuits, and any distraction proved helpful. That said, wherever they were headed, they weren't getting there near fast enough for her liking. She needed to move, the small seat too cramped, to confining. She needed to be somewhere. Anywhere.

When a gigantic white orb, in all its odd ethereal majesty, came into view and Nolan announced they'd arrived, she couldn't begin to express her relief.

[Welcome to the Tower, in the last safe city on Earth! Welcome home]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The intro chapters will be a lot less episodic than some of the later ones. I'd like for everyone to properly get to know Perry before I really start jumping around. The introduction will cover roughly up to just past the Black Garden.  
> 


	3. The Guardian (intro part 2)

The early afternoon sky is overcast, the fresh smell of rain permeating the air. Silvery columns of light bounce off wet, white stone and metal to give the Tower a heavenly sheen. The air is warmer here than Old Russia, but only just, the breeze at this altitude unable to help but carry a chill. Red leaves dance on silver barked trees in unison with the rainbow of banners that slap against their poles, the clang of metal against metal singing out over the rabble.

Nolan says nothing as Peregrine's optics drink in the view, allowing the Tower and the City to speak for themselves.There was no hurry, the Vanguard weren't aware they'd be receiving new blood. He hadn't announced anything over comms beyond what was needed for docking, fearing a welcome party would overwhelm her. That, as it so happened, proved a smart move.

She jumps at every announcement that sounds out over the intercom, the source of the voices a baffling mystery. Her eyes track every person that walks by; the sheer amount of bustle and life sending her head spinning. Turning away from the multitude, leaning against the overlook railing, she focuses instead on the grand city below.

Peregrine uncertainly shies away from the occasional knowing smile of the armored men and women that pass her, each attempting to catch her eye. Her optics fade slightly each time they do, taking on a dull golden orange hue.

 _[I wonder]_ , Nolan thought, _[what that could mean...]_ He'd heard tell of Exos with occasional programming bugs, things like additional senses or synesthesia like features. _[I hope it's nothing serious!]_

Only as serious as a blush, as it so happens _._ Peregrine-3 feels imagined heat on her cheeks and wonders at the engineering behind it all.

In awe of her surroundings, Peregrine-3 spends a good half hour acclimating, asking Nolan questions here and there as they occur to her.

[That's the gunsmith there -- we'll want to visit him later-- and the vault access points are the tall pillars over here.] 

They've surveyed just about everything the courtyard has to offer, barring actually speaking to anyone. The robots, 'frames', as Nolan names them, simpler than Exos, give her the same greeting each time she passes.

"You seem chipper", she says, as if his moods were already familiar enough to spot outliers. He _was_ so uncannily familiar to her. Like...a puzzle piece. They fit. Together.

[Do I? Well, it's not every day you get to show your Guardian around for the first time!]

Smiling, she gently boops the little orange triangle that tops his vertical fin. He presses back, snug against her palm. "We need to visit this 'Vanguard' at some point, right?"

[We could go now, if you like. They'll get you set up with assigned housing -- until you can afford a nicer place in the City of course, nobody stays in the assigned rooms forever -- and fill you in on how Guardians get assignments and bounties.]

Peregrine-3 finds The Hall of the Guardians is less ritzy than the courtyard outside. Weapons litter the area near the giant 'Shaxx'. [He insists on the second x], Nolan quietly informs her as they pass the booming man.

 _Red banners with swords are 'Crucible',_ she notes. _Guardian vs Guardian training. It's a good name. Apt._

They find the Vanguard surrounding a large table, reports, diagrams, trinkets, and datapads sprawled out in front of the trio. Frames bustle about the room from terminal to terminal, processing data sent in by Ghosts from across the system. The room is quiet but for the hum of the machinery, soft beeps from incoming messages, and the occasional "hmm" from the elegant woman in purple.

The Hunter, made obvious by his cloak, looks up from his maps, electric blue optics wide in curiosity.

Discharge.

The livewire static that has until now permeated Peregrine's circuitry dissipates abruptly, and for the first time since waking she finds herself somewhat at ease. 

_He's alive._

The voice to her thoughts is her own and not.

She knows him only as well as she knows anyone else -- which is to say not in the slightest -- but he feels as familiar as the back of her own hand. Or would, were the back of her hand familiar. It occurs to her now that she hasn't yet removed her gloves even.

Cayde-6, as Nolan quietly identifies him in her ear, doesn't appear to share her sentiments. He raises a mechanical brow as she stares owlishly at him. "Uh, somethin' on my face?" He turns to his companions, gesturing as if genuinely concerned. Zavala, the Titan, simply shakes his head wearily, whilst Ikora, the Warlock, begins to watch Peregrine.

[Sorry Cayde! She hasn't really seen another Exo, it's all still pretty new... ] Nolan covers. He's curious, but decides to save the questions for a less scrutinized locale.

"Ah, well that's understandable. Go on and take a good look kid, they aren't all this handsome." Cayde preens, brushing non-existent dust off his sleeve and adjusting the hood of his ratty cloak.

Peregrine looks pointedly away as if by compulsion, and the white, red, and gold Ghost beside him unsuccessfully fights back giggles. Cayde deflates with a small theatrical huff. He quips about being unappreciated. Peregrine bites back a laugh of her own.

It feels somehow routine.

The large blue man clears his throat and begins to stoically recite what Peregrine can clearly see is a standard welcoming monologue. She finds her attention wandering already. Nolan takes the liberty of responding in her stead for the bits she's tuned out.

"...as for Strikes, you will receive your assignments from one of we three. Should you forgo establishing a Fireteam, one with be selected for you. On these missions I expect you to..."

"Hold up, you're already giving me orders? I don't have to just do what you say, do I?"

On her left the Hunter Vanguard chuckles. "Hah, she speaks!" Peregrine can't be sure, but thinks he is smirking. She shifts uncomfortably under his gaze, torn between unfamiliar affection and offense.

The Vanguard Commander looks at her with a hint of indignation. What sort of a Guardian asks such a thing? Had this Ghost perhaps made a mistake?

The Warlock Vanguard for her part only cocks an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching into an upturn. She's intrigued.

[Hahaha...] Nolan laughs nervously. [What she means is 'what are the rules here in the Tower?'. I told her Guardians aren't an army, you see]. Peregrine opens her mouth to protest his interpretation, but he lands on the top of her head painfully, thwacking her.

Ikora Rey smiles warmly, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Your Ghost is right , Guardian, all directives and operations we issue are in fact optional. We have laws here you must abide if you wish to live in the Last City, but by in large they are simple, self explanatory, and serve only as a _deterrent,_ not a demand. None that would compel you to do anything against your will."

"In short, lotta things you can't do, not so many you have to do", Cayde chimes in.

"That said, Guardians are expected..." Zavala began before being waved to silence by Ikora.

"Many Guardians are keen to jump right in, but there are those who must first find a cause. In my experience, they tend to become people of strong conviction, and our greatest strength. Take some time. Walk the City. The wilds. Every Guardian wakes for a reason. Find yours."

"You're one of mine, no doubt about that. Ain't a Hunter alive that likes authority. We're somethin like a bag of cats. My advice? Start by setting your sights on something shiny. The rest'll fall in place soon enough."

"She'll need a warp drive for her ship if she ever intends to set her sights on much at all." Zavala levels her with a stern gaze. "That -shiny- enough for you? If so, see Holliday, our shipwright. She'll tell you where you ought to look."

The Vanguard Commander softens, nodding his head toward Cayde, "That is, _after_ she's settled in and fed. Hunter Vanguard?"

"Yeah yeah, on it boss. Got a name, kid?" He motions for her to follow him, snatching up his datapad as he goes, typing intermittently as Nolan catalogues the permissions steadily being assigned.

"Peregrine-3." She quickly matches his pace, their strides, and heights, curiously (Is _that an Exo thing?)_ , being roughly equal.

"Peregrine-3", He repeats, whistling appreciatively, "Lucky you! Not _every_ Exo comes equipped with a cool one y'know. Lot of us, we get the meager leavins' of our past selves' idiot parents. Some change their names, sure, but nothin except what's in your coding ever quite sits right."

"Nolan told me only Exo Guardians have names when they wake. That right?"

"Yup! Most just pick what sounds nice. Usually have a story to go with if you ever get the inclination to ask. Your Ghost, he's 'Nolan'? That got a story to it?"

"Just suits him", She lies, hastily looking away from the preening Ghost in question.

Cayde considers for a moment, an orange flicker at his mouth giving the impression of a smile, laughing at the stuffy lil bot's happy twirls. "That it does."

The pair and their Ghosts turn the corner, into a long hallway with signs marking 'Tower North ->'. The passage was much quieter than the main thoroughfare, their footfalls echoing off the walls. A cheery Frame was whistling as it swept, uninterested in the Guardians as they passed.

"Alrighty! This-a-way." His Ghost's eye flashes a small beam at a control pad on the wall a short ways from what Nolan identified as The Speaker's place, granting entrance to a labyrinthine residence hall that appeared built into the interior of the Tower, slightly dingy with age and use.

"Had someone move out just the other day", he said as they stopped in front of an apartment at the end of the hall. "You get nice and cozy here in your room, Perry, and go see some of our people 'bout new gear later. Nolan's got the codes for a couple cheap sets til you've got the glimmer for better."

" _Perry_?"

"Look kid, I'm a busy man. Ain't got time to be saying names like Peregrine all day. Peregrine -- Peregriiiine...", he elongates the name dramatically, appearing to physically wilt with the weight of precious lost seconds. 

She unsuccessfully fights back an undignified snort.

"Ha!...see? Won't get nothin done. Anyway, welcome aboard _Perry_."

Cayde slaps her heartily on the back before making his way back toward the courtyard, meaning to ask the Crucible handler about the results of a match he has money on.

* * *

To call the apartment modest would be charitable at best. The barest essentials were present: a place to cook, eat, sleep, bathe, and shit _(Do I eat? Do I shit??),_ all economically packed into the small space.

A knock at the door announced a Frame bearing a care package of linens, simple cotton clothing with Hunter branding, and an odd smelling bar of what appeared to be a sort of soap, as well as can of wax.

[Exos can bathe just the same as anybody else], Nolan explains the soap, [but regular soap isn't the kindest to your metal. This'll get you clean better, and the wax will make you nice and shiny! How about you try them out?]

"You saying I stink?" She laughed.

[Of course not! I mean, I don't exactly have a nose, but I'm sure you smell fiiiine. Maybe. Your clothes on the other hand aren't exactly new, and they are covered in Fallen blood, _so_...]

"Fine, a shower and new clothes." Perry began to strip the old gear off, pausing to lock the door. She took a moment to actually become acquainted with the back of her own hand, the plating white over charcoal paramuscle, her knuckle plates an electric blue.

[Maybe incinerate the old ones? Just to test your solar light. You know.]

"Uh huh."

Despite her face being mostly white, her body is in fact mostly charcoal grey, with the occasional white for her upper arms, hands, calves, ankles, toes, and hips. Electric blue accents appeared throughout, the stark contrast giving her an overall fierce appearance.

Her chest is a solid mass, a fact she finds slightly disconcerting, but everything else appears anatomically correct for the most part. Nolan discreetly forwards basic exofunction information packets to the simple datapad provided to her, assuming questions about anatomy would be far far down the list of things she'd want to ask a stranger.

The water and soap runs harmlessly over her metal body, assuaging any fears of potential electrocution or short circuiting. A shocking amount of detritus washes away with the stream _(Fallen gunk?)._

[The Speaker will want to talk with you, when you're up for it.] Nolan says as she dresses. 

"Later, maybe. I know it's the middle of the day, but to be honest I'd rather just take a nap. Maybe grab a bite to eat afterwards. Er, once I read up on _how_ , that is..." She picks up the datapad, flumping onto the spartan bed with a sigh.

Nolan rests on the pillow beside her, his neon blue eye twinkling. [Read it to me? I'm curious myself. I always figured Exos ate like snakes....]

"There's an image. Thanks for that."

* * *

Perry adjusts to Tower life quickly. Picking up bounties becomes a routine, and soon enough she has the glimmer for creature comforts. Strikes are more serious business, and she discovers Fireteams aren't quite her scene, but she comes to enjoy the challenge.

Amanda is cheerful and helpful, and gets her transportation sorted like a technological magician. Banshee is forgetful, but works wonders on her gear with gentle reminders. Perry isn't terribly fond of the creepily pious Speaker, nor the faction leaders, and gives them wide berth.

However, Peregrine finds herself lonely. The kind of lonely that seeps into her circuits and wrenches at what would be her heart. 

The people she works alongside in the Tower look through her to those they've known for near a hundred years, if not longer. Even to the shorter lived citizens of the City she's comparably a child in years. Where, in all this, is there room for Peregrine-3?

Nobody knows her.

Her solitary nature as a Hunter conflicts with her desire for comraderie. She is at home in the wilds, camped out in a makeshift hide tracking Fallen. She is at home in the Archives, learning about her new world in hushed, inquisitive silence. She is at home on the outskirts of gatherings, watching spirited exchanges unfold from the comfort of a corner stool. 

But her true home is the Tower, and without something to return to....her home is cold and empty.

As for Cayde, he, unfortunately, is... NOT the friend she hoped to find when they first met.

Not right away.

He, the only spark of familiar in this new life aside from her Ghost, is, as far as she can tell, unfamiliar with her. Whoever he'd been, whatever her past self's relationship with him was -- if there had truly been one -- is plainly foreign to him. Cayde looks past her like everyone else. 

As Hunter Vanguard, most of her tasks as a Guardian are issued by him. Most of _these_ tasks are also utterly ridiculous.

Despite technically being a free agent like all Guardians, not legally bound to complete Vanguard assignments should she not wish to, Perry's met every unreasonable demand without complaint. Initially she relished the challenge. Now she persists out of sheer stubborn will. 

Had she the friends to tell her so, she would have learned from the first this was a standard Hunter hazing. Take your licks, learn to put your foot down.

On her own, she quickly came to realize the arbitrary kill counts and highly specific elemental, skill, and weapon restrictions for said kills were just Cayde's way of amusing himself at her expense, under the guise of 'training'. In truth, he has never once 'trained' her in how to do anything, something that is both a source of pride and frustration for Peregrine. It became apparent that the more flawless the action reports he got back, the more grueling the following 'lessons' would be.

"Ok. _Yes_ , at first I was just messing around. Now though -- I honestly just wanna to see where she draws the line." She overhears him say to Banshee the table across the bar from her as she's eating one night, his electronic voice carrying slightly over the mostly organic din. Her curiosity gets the better of her as she discreetly eyes them from behind the cover of a tall wine rack and the backs of a couple portly fellow patrons, the pair too engrossed in their game to notice her attention.

"Kid'll hate ya if you keep it up", came the reply as Banshee slapped some cards down and took a few chips. "Ain't right, hassling the new blood for kicks"

"Little tough love never hurt anyone", Cayde reasons, defensive under his light-hearted tone. "Besiii~des, I'd know if she hated me. Pretty sure I've got her tell all figured out now."

"And I've got yours. Gimme that card there in your sleeve."

Cayde groans as he hands it and several other hidden cards over. " Turns out her eyes got some kinda bug. Change colors with mood. Been red a lot lately...look, she may be pissed, but she's tough. Tougher than any newbie I've seen in an age. Got a fire under her ass like nothin else. She keeps this up, she'll be something in no time flat. What's so wrong with wanting to see that?"

"Burn too hot too fast, might burn out. Gotta feed a good fire with care. Be _nicer_ to the kid, alright?"

"You're just sweet on her 'cause she doesn't hassle you about forgettin' stuff."

"Sure. Says the guy pokin her with a stick like a kid. Tough love, was it?"

"Hey! That's enough outta you."

* * *

In all fairness to Cayde (what little he currently deserves), her Vanguard isn't the only one to take note of Perry.

High stakes Crucible matches. Deadly Strikes. Risky patrols. The newly risen Peregrine-3 had busied herself becoming known, and known she became.

Shaxx is enamored with this riotous upstart rookie with win after win under her belt. Fireteams clamour to enlist her in their ranks, bemoaning her stereotypical solitary working preferences. Not a barhopping soul dares takes her lightly at cards, glimmer and loot she has no real interest in steadily filling her vault.

Her name, or rather her title, soon fell from innumerable lips. Not a Guardian.

 **The Guardian**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long this took to put out. Had some heckin writer's block. There's gonna be 2-3 more intro chapters after this one before going to a more episodic style.


	4. Between Light and Dark (intro part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes a handful of lines directly from the game. I've tried to use them sparingly without altering what characters have canonically said. In-between scenes have more wiggle room.

Cayde appeared to have taken Banshee's warning to heart. Though no apology ever came, the hazing stopped the following day, with only legitimate assignments showing up on the request roster.

"What, you want more? C'mon, you're done, you passed! Flying colors. Go you!" Cayde had given her a hearty thumbs up and a stupid grin, and the matter was settled.

Perry isn't upset. Nor is she surprised. She's never surprised. Never caught off guard, not by him. And she couldn't tell you why if you offered her all the riches in the world.

Peregrine yawns, a fan in the back of her skull whirring softly. She had been summoned abruptly mid breakfast to speak with Zavala. The Hall of the Guardians is quiet, most personel shifts having yet to start. Cayde is busy failing to mind his own business at the other side of the room, 'reading scout reports'. Ikora is out this particular morning, leading some hokey Warlock meditation session. One of the Vanguard support Frames offers Perry a coffee, which she accepts gladly.

"Thanks pal."

{You are very welcome Guardian. Have a pleasant day.}

_Always so cordial, that lot._

Zavala greets her by the large window overlooking towering snowcapped mountains, face stern, heavy with a tiredness unrelated to the early hour. Peregrine-3 has come to respect that weight. Respect him, despite their rocky start. He is a monolith the mountains can only hope to mirror.

"Guardian Peregrine. We have a search and rescue in hostile territory I would like you to handle. It will require a delicate touch, and I'm told you're an exceptional Blade Dancer with a knack for stealth."

"'Exceptional' don't cut it. She'd put my pal Shiro to shame." So much for pretending to mind his business.

"Quite. Her early mission reports were... impressive. Needlessly excessive, but impressive." He fixes the offending Hunter with a look. Cayde's face admits no wrongdoing, naturally.

"We have a Guardian missing on the moon. I need you to locate him. With any luck a rescue will be possible. We have not been... _lucky_ on Luna in some time. Do not engage unless necessary. Tread lightly, Guardian."

* * *

Rescue was unfortunately off the table. One mission turns into several as Peregrine and Nolan discover the Hive stirring up more mischief than a single dead Guardian. Priorities shifted.The Hive had taken a shard of the Traveller itself and the Speaker was adamant this could not stand. Perry swore she'd see it handled, no trumped up gothic bugs were going to threaten her home if she could do something about it. Still....

Peregrine pauses, listening for enemies. The stone and chitin loom around her. The shadows remain motionless. She wasn't offered any backup -- not that she wanted any. It was just her, her Ghost, the Hive, and the spectre of an Exo that Nolan hadn't noticed.

It's said that waaay back in the day, before the Traveller set up shop, people would look up at the moon in wonder, dreaming of what it would be like to walk its surface. Perry must have been one such inspired soul, when she was still flesh and bone, for there is a majesty about the solemn rock she feels in deep in her circuitry. To look up and see the whole of the Earth in one direction, and the whole of space in the other -- an incomparable feeling.

This awe ends where the caverns begin. The hollows of the moon carry a curse where the surface carries a prayer. In her forays she finds remnants of past exploration, often with tragic implication. She offers the departed her condolences, and grants them what dignity she can when time and circumstances allow. Not that there's much to be done; it feels _wrong_ to bury them in the wretched rock, so they mostly remain as they are for the next passerby.

The tunnels echo, her near silent footfalls deafening to her, every shifting pebble and wriggling worm a Thrall until proven otherwise. The Thrall are Thrall too. She's learned quickly how to avoid them, their unnerving skeletal forms and bestial shrieks. A necessary skill when stalking Hive, for when there is one Thrall there are twelve. Distance is crucial. Her cloaking doesn't mask her scent. Luckily, as an Exo she produces next to no smell herself, so her 'scent' is a conglomeration of things she wears and surrounds herself with. Today's perfume? Hive guts.

The Stranger on the radio, almost certainly the same Exo that had been dogging her footsteps this whole expedition, had called her 'brave'. Had said "Go down and face the Hive, and if you live, come find me." 

_'If I live.' Such a vote of confidence, that._ Perry thinks wryly _._

[It's here] Nolan whispers. He remains hidden.

Handcannon and fusion rifle reloaded, ready. The chamber ahead is too cramped for rockets, the rock supports too fragile to withstand a concentrated blast. Were the shard not at risk, she'd simply collapse the damn thing.

"Let's get this done."

[I'm with you.]

The thunder of her handcannon spells the beginning of the end for the Hive. The crackle of Arc lightning the death knell for those who'd dare trespass on the Traveller's light.

* * *

Amongst the clatter and chorus of the Tower Hangar, a twangy voice calls out from underneath the suspended chassis of an orange and white sparrow. _Her_ sparrow, in fact.

"Heya Perry, heading off again so soon? Ishtar, right? On Venus? Heard you were asking Ikora for info on the place"

Peregrine-3 can't help but admire the ease and grace of Amanda Holliday's friendliness. Her wavy, honey colored mop peeks out from under the sparrow. Surveying her handiwork, Amanda wipes at her nose with the back of her hand, leaving a small stain of grease in place of the itch.

[We got a tip something important's there. Something dangerous. After all that business on the Moon, it's better safe than sorry. We wanted to get a lay of the land before checking it out, but...]

"Couldn't find nothin?" Amanda offers knowingly.

"Nope! Nothing particularly useful anyway. The history was neat." Perry shrugs, fiddling idly with a wrench on the toolbench nearby. "You could read forever and not exhaust the City's archives, and still it doesn't have close to everything. Makes my head spin a bit."

"That's what you Hunters are for, ain't it? Digging up what's lost. Whatever's waiting, your ship and sparrow'll getcha there in one piece." She shoves out from under the sparrow, motioning for Nolan to update its saved template. "Just finished tuning them up. Little thank you for pitching in the other day. Really appreciate it." She stands, wiping grease of her hands as she rises, chuckling ruefully, "Not a lot of Hunters can seem to find the time."

Perry laughs conspiratorially. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but I think a lot of Hunters use being a Hunter as an excuse to be lazy."

"My lips are sealed", Amanda laughs in kind.

* * *

The jungles of Venus bore unusual fruit. Murderous robots -- "No, not like Exo, stop laughing Nolan!" -- dominated the landscape with their glinting chrome chassis and grand, blocky architecture _._ Golden Age ruins overgrown and verdant stand monument to the intrepid souls who once studied here. It never quite sits right, walking through the skeleton of civilization, reclaimer and looter both. She lived the Golden Age. Her very existence as an Exo shows as much. Yet she feels like an outsider, a scavenger pecking at a carcass.

They make their way to the rendezvous point, trashing Vex as they go. The similarities are uncomfortable.

The Stranger is in fact the Exo woman Peregrine had spied on the Moon, watching her as she campaigned alone against the Hive. A blueish black and white chassis not unlike her own, unclothed but for a belt, hood, and shawl, identifies the woman. The Stanger's particular model appears to lack _certain features_ , but Perry finds herself averting her eyes all the same. She arrives as if from thin air, and speaks intermittently to people not present. She is not a Guardian. She is an enigma. She has little time to explain, but she does provide this:

The Black Garden. A place more heavily guarded, more heavily fortified than Venus. Crawling with Vex. Home to worse mischief than even the Hive's shard shenaniganry. As ever, the fate of the Traveller seems hinged upon Peregrine putting a stop it it.

The Stanger's guidance sends the duo to the outer reaches of the the inner system, into Awoken space -- a jumbled mess of wreckage and rock, an amethyst hued grave for Golden Age spacefarers. The stars are not visible within this dark clouded haze.

Wavering between the Light and the Dark. That's how The Stranger had described the Awoken. Here, in the tenuous purple half light, waving and fluctuating as if through water, no description feels more apt. Nolan is less than thrilled with the vibe. _Worrywart_.

Queen Mara Sov's dominion.

A fact her majesty's Corsairs do not fail to impress upon Peregrine as she and Nolan are apprehended for trespass and led to the flagship. Her weapons are confiscated upon entry. She is made to walk lockstep with the guards. The throne room is the only place she is allowed, no deviation will be tolerated.

A raven haired man with a handsome face and an ugly smirk stands by the throne, which sits empty. Uldren Sov, the Queen's brother, Prince of the Reef. He's not happy to see them. He says as much. Peregrine deems him a pissant and ignores him.

"We've come to ask for help." Stubbornness is a virtue, don't ya know.

Four armed insectoid figures emerge from behind the Prince. Unmistakable.

[Fallen!]

On high alert, Peregrine yanks a pistol from the holster of the nearest guard. Uldren's blade finds her neck before she can take aim. Deadly precise, deadly swift. His eyes carry an arrogance, a certainty of the outcome should they dance. Peregrine differs in opinion. Pride demands the debate.

_Fuck around and find out._

Alas, she's not here to fuck around. Pride takes a backseat as Peregrine-3 lowers her pilfered cannon, eyes fixed on the emergent Awoken Queen. The Fallen, for their part, make no move to attack.

_Small mercies_

"It is afraid of the Fallen. It does not understand these ones are mine." Mara Sov does not have to laugh for Peregrine to know she is being mocked. The Queen takes her seat. The Fallen bearing House Wolves markings stand guard alongside.

The woman possess an air of something unknowable. Ageless. Distant. Someone who, in a spiritually inclined person, might inspire a sort of worship. Peregrine hates this the same as she hates unthinking reverence for the Traveller. Reverence demands one kneel. Figuratively. Literally. Peregrine-3's knees simply do not bend that way.

Her Majesty's gaze is a detached, idle question, the subject of her attention a mildly interesting puzzle.

_'Is it worth **our** time?'_

Peregrine gets the sense the answer is a firm 'maybe _'._ She doesn't care enough to be insulted.

Being posessed of a metal body, Peregrine tries not to judge appearances on principle, but she has to admit she doesn't much care for the Queen's eerie unblinking, _dissecting_ stare _._

She steels herself to not appear shaken _._

* * *

"What have you got, Guardian?" Master Rahool asks earnestly.

"A bagel?" Peregrine-3, bearing a bag of bagels in one hand and the precious Archive data in the other, replies. "Want one?" She brandishes the bag, crumbs from the one in her mouth falling dangerously close to the datapad she holds.

Perry and Nolan spent the better part of the past two days flushing out and slaying a Gatelord for the Awoken. The odd price the Prince had named for information on the Black Garden. They wanted its head for some damn reason, except they also _didn't_. An asinine test, best Perry could figure. Since they were already on Venus, the Cryptarchy and Vanguard took full advantage, requesting things like data retrieval and beacon recalibration from the preoccupied duo.

The Cryptarch shakes his head and snatches the priceless knowledge from her philistine hands. He ought to know by now what to expect from one of Cayde's Hunters, and of course _this_ Hunter is worse.

This Hunter is Cayde's _friend._

See -- and this is news to Perry -- word had gotten around that Cayde-6 had taken a shine to the upstart Hunter. Word had gotten around in part because he wouldn't shut up about her, blowing her achievements out of proportion with his characteristic embellishments and flourish. _Naturally_ her success was due to his expert mentoring, at least the way he told it.

The thing about Cayde is he's a real nice guy--and he's also a bit of an ass.

To be Cayde's friend is to accept a certain amount of trouble. A certain amount of mischief.

And when you run with Cayde, people get a sense of you too. Like attracts like.

So now the whole world knew Peregrine-3 to be _trouble_ \-- for better or for worse.

Banshee doesn't seem to mind her newfound infamy as she restocks on ammo synths for the coming expedition. Perry doesn't seem to mind the number of times she has to remind him to check over her weaponry. He receives a decent chunk of glimmer and a bagel for his trouble.

Ikora and the Speaker both offer her what wisdom and blessings they can as she and Nolan report their findings from Venus and the Reef. As usual, Peregrine much prefers Ikora's. Only she is given a bagel. 

Their return to the Tower is little more than a pitstop. Too much time spent on Venus already, doing missions for this person and that. The threat of the Black Garden looms, and they cannot afford to linger. Perry feels anxious -- can _feel_ what she's going to face may be more than she can chew. Every piece of equipment is checked and triple checked. Emergency rations are procured, though truthfully she doesn't really need them.

There's no staying the night. What sleep she could get would be had on the way back to the Reef. Resupply and repairs handled as best they could be, Peregrine makes her way back to the Hangar, her bag now nearly empty.

"Perr-y, heading out to shake down the Awoken?", Cayde's voice calls out as he hops from a shadowy perch near the main docking bay, tucking a small paperback book under his arm. " Well I'll be damned, I was _just_ thinking about lunch. Thanks!" He shoves his hand into the unoffered bagel bag, and the last remaining bagel into his mouth. 

"Maybe. Their Prince was spoiling for a fight last time, so could be I'll come back with an incident on my hands instead."

He grins, faceplates arranged in a way that might have been handsome were it not for the mouthful of bagel. The obstruction doesn't stop his muffled reply.

"You've got Ikora and The Speaker all pious and riled. Get into the Black Garden, overthrow the Queen -- either makes for a good enough story. I'd recommend the first one, but I'm not picky. Though, you _do_ cause a fuss with the Awoken it's you doin' the paperwork, just saying."

"Shame for you the way Nolan does reports is so dry..."

[Hey!]

"Hell, that don't matter. I know how to spice em up. 'Sides, nobody wants to read reports all day anyway; tell it to me over a drink. Make it good and I'll buy."

"I'll hold you to that, you know." She crumples up the empty bag and tosses it at his chest, banking it off him into a nearby waste bin. Her eyes sparkle gold. She hadn't thought she'd actually make the basket.

"See that you do, Guardian". He claps a hand to her shoulder, swagger giving way to the barest hint of genuine concern, eyes serious and unwavering. The stronghold of the Vex wouldn't be a walk in the park, and too many rising stars had been snuffed out by a lot less. 'Come back safe' doesn't need saying.

[What were you reading, by the way?] Nolan circles Cayde curiously, scanning the paperback. Cayde swats him away. 

"Nothin' for no nosy Ghosts. Don't you have a garden to prune or something? Go on now, get."

On her ship, Perry's curiosity lets loose.

"Did you see what it was?"

[I couldn't get a good look, but a crosscheck of the title with the Archives says it's a book about pirates.]

"Pirates?"

[Thieves that sailed boats on the ocean pre-Golden Age. Common in adventure stories.]

"We really need to sneak him out of the Tower, poor guy's wasting away."

[Not for lack of bagels. He didn't even _ask_!]

They laugh halfway to the Reef.

* * *

Peregrine-3 can't hide her swagger as she marches into the throne room. Can't forgo the theater of making them guess at her success before having Nolan transmat the Gatelord's head onto the floor with a hefty clash in front of her. Can't help but savor the all too brief moment of surprise in their ethereal, smug faces. Nolan does a proud little twirl.

_Fuck around and find out._

The Prince recovers quickly, keen to ruin the moment, to leave Perry with nothing. He turns to the Queen. Further protests providing aid to the Guardian, even at this juncture.

The Queen suffers none of it.

"Please - Take. What. Is. Required." Her voice is honey sweet and venom laced. Her eyes never leave Perry's face.

The Prince bows to the command bitterly and sets to work, carving the Gatelord's eye from its head. He then smiles, satisfied.

"Dead, unfortunately. A wasted journey, I'm afraid." He doesn't seem at all disappointed.

Mara orders he give it regardless. In sympathy. In return for a boon. The Guardian is surely resourceful enough for so small a setback, and if not, well....a pity. The debt will still be owed.

Uldren dutifully tosses Perry the cracked eye, its slow arc culminating in a heavy thunk on her palm. For a moment shadow passes across his gaze.

"Good luck." He intones, singsong and insincere, more a curse than a blessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will cover the Back Garden and will be the last of the intro chapters. If you're reading before it comes out, it'll be a chapter about Exo dreams instead. Sorry for the jumble.


	5. Deep Stone Crypt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter describes my Guardian being stopped in her Deep Stone Crypt dream rampage with lethal force, for which she is grateful. If that is uncomfortable, please do skip this one.  
> This is set roughly around Rise of Iron.

A dark tower in the mountains stands illuminated by the setting sun, crimson sky a mirror of the bloodbath soon to follow below. Whispers of rain on the wind, solemn and sweet, to wash it all away. A thousand thousand eyes train themselves on an Exo woman as she approaches. They ready themselves, but they are not prepared.

When Peregrine-3 dreams of the Deep Stone Crypt, she never dreams of golden wheat and peace. She dreams of iron and blood. She dreams of violence, _is_ violence, and _ends_ in violence.

She has never been inside the tower, and hopes against hope today will be no different. _It wasn't for her,_ every atom in her metal body cried out. Whatever secrets it held were not worth the price of admission. She doesn't belong here.

That said, not belonging did nothing to stop her forward march, nor the ensuing rampage.

Peregrine is blessed with a modicum of restraint, at least at first, allowing her to exercise only as much force as needed to remove her obstacles. She does not have to slaughter to make her way forward, gut punches and broken arms and bloody noses are more than sufficient -- to start. But the closer she gets to the tower, the worse the resistance becomes, and the more extreme her responses.

Her body moves as if of its own accord; she can no more stop her assault than she can will herself to wake from this nightmare. Perry snaps a man's leg, and knows he will never walk again. She catches a nearby woman in the ribs and hears a sickening _crack_ as she doubles over. Metal scrapes shrieking against metal as she tears the plating from the shoulder of a stalwart, impassable Exo. They all make way in the end, like the parting of a sea.

She is helpless in her brutality.

Inevitably she reaches a point, a line in the sand, where she _knows the_ next to cross her will die. Most often these potential victims take the form of those most vulnerable Last City denizens she strives endlessly to protect. She does not recognize them all, but her desire to see them safe from harm is undiminished -- and unrewarded. Peregrine would give anything to stop herself, but her body is not her own.

"Gonna have to ask you to cool your jets there, P. Someone might get hurt."

Ah, _there he is_.

A wave of relief washes over her as a lone figure, the lights of his eyes vibrant blue in the lengthening evening shadows, steps forward out of the crowd. If he is here, she'd go no further. He knew Perry well enough to know she didn't want this. He'd put an end to it.

He always did.

Peregrine-3 gives no response, could give no response beyond a snarl, but Cayde-6 pays it no mind. He only sighs as she lunges toward him, leveling the Ace of Spades at her. His optics narrow wistfully, in what could almost be read as pity.

At this distance, a poorer shot than he couldn't hope to miss. 

The light Firefly lets off is blinding -- her vision erupting into white.

* * *

Peregrine's optics flair to life, bright white in their dark sockets, straining against the sudden intrusion of the late afternoon sun. Her outer ring of lights flash a dazzling array of colors, their programming not quite up to the task of displaying tumultuous emotions. Her 'breathing' is ragged and heavy as she lay reclined against the railing of her flat's balcony, an old book resting on her chest, now registering a pair of mechanical voices shouting to one another. She covers her face with a hand, gathering herself.

The raised robotic whisper of her Ghost, her ever constant champion, sounds out from beside her _. [Would.you.quit.yelling?_! _She's sleeping_!] 

"Wake her up then. C'mon, it'll be fun!! Besides, she owes me a round."

[Last I checked, you placed a Crucible bet in her name, lost, and _still_ haven't paid us back] Nolan counters, irate, chassis twirling in annoyance.

"Aw, who's keeping track?" Cayde calls back. Peregrine smiles a little to hear the ever-so-slight hint of remorse in his voice. 

[ _I_ am!] Nolan gripes, now noticing Perry watching him. He issues her an apologetic glance. She hadn't been back to the City in days, and had only two hours' fitful rest before getting woken up by this nonsense.

[Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud Nolan] teases Sundance, wiggling the front of her shell, golden accents glinting in the sun as she floats cheerily up to him. Suddenly crowded, Nolan moves a respectful distance away to make space; Peregrine thinks if he were capable of blushing he would. [Why don't you let your Guardian decide; looks like she's awake _now_ ]

Peregrine had pulled herself up to rest her arms on the rail, and was peering down at her obnoxious, terribly charming Vanguard. "Whatcha doing giving my neighbors hearing loss, Cayde?"

"I ain't _that_ loud, P." He squints up at her, one hand raised to block the sun. "Have a nice nap? Shiro's back in town, probably gonna have a good story or three if you wanna go for drinks. Suppose I'll buy the first round, since - _apparently-_ I owe ya." He shrugs, and Peregrine knows that to be the closest thing to an apology she'll get out of him.

One might reasonably expect a measure of ire toward the man who not moments ago shot her point blank, dream or no, and a desire to put some healthy distance between him and herself, but this is never the case with Perry. This dream is, unfortunately, one she has often, and though it confuses her to no end, she curiously has only ever felt gratitude toward him for getting in her way.

The feeling that someone has her back to the point that they will not allow her to betray herself...the notion that someone understands her well enough to know....is immesurably comforting. A young Guardian's life can be terribly lonely, thrust into a word of established connections and understandings you have no part in. To have even the illusion of genuine camaraderie, warped though it may be in this case, is so very precious to her. Though she does not know why Cayde, of all people, is the person that comes to mind, she finds that when she wakes, the only place she wants to be is by his side.

Perry looks down fondly at him, eye lights tinged in gold -- her particular oddly programmed way of smiling. No doubt he'd heard she had returned from the field, and rushed to her apartment once his shift was up, eager for stories from her as well (told by Nolan, naturally; she's a piss poor conversationalist). He got _so_ terribly bored with office work that you could _see_ the stir crazy building up.

"Alright, but _only_ since you're buying. Watch out!" she calls out jokingly, vaulting over the delicately woven metal railing of her 2nd story balcony, two short bursts of light killing her momentum before she could hit the ground.


End file.
